


The Different Ways I Say “I Love You”

by L_aryy



Series: Wordless Emotions [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Happy Birthday Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Makkachin - Freeform, Mentions of Russian skating fam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 06:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13140882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_aryy/pseuds/L_aryy
Summary: How Viktor and Yuuri say "I Love You" to each other





	The Different Ways I Say “I Love You”

**Author's Note:**

> A little self-indulgent thing I wrote with around a half hour until Christmas. Hope you all enjoy it!

Yuuri’s fast asleep when Viktor comes home from practice. He stayed at the rink longer, overcome with a desire to perfect his short program. Yuuri had understood, sweeping a kiss on his cheek.

Viktor stands there a little while longer, unable to tear his eyes away from his husband who’s currently curled into a ball with Makkachin sleeping on the floor near his head.

Finally, smiling, he hangs up his coat and scarf and walks to the kitchen as quietly as he can. There’s a pot on the stove.

Curious, he lifts the lid. A familiar scent wafts out. He claps a hand over his mouth. He glances quickly over to Yuuri. Thankfully, he’s still fast asleep. 

He strides back to Yuuri’s side, and kneels down. He strokes his cheek, running a hand through his dark hair. Viktor kisses his forehead, lips lingering, before he straightens up. Walks back to the kitchen. Brings down a bowl from the cabinet. Ladles the soup. He sits down in the bit of space at the end of the sofa, pulling Yuuri’s feet into his lap. 

The borscht is still warm.

***

Viktor is conflicted.

He adores it when Yuuri tells him to sit on the floor. He knows what’s going to happen next. He scooches up to the end of the bed, leaning his arms on Yuuri’s legs as he combs through Viktor’s hair.

There’s something about Yuuri running a comb through his hair. Each movement is gentle. He pulls the comb through his bangs. Viktor closes his eyes as he feels his head being pulled back. He sighs, contented.

Then the comb is abandoned. Yuuri’s fingers tangle in Viktor’s hair as he combs through the strands. Viktor barely stifles a moan as the tips of his fingers press down on his temples. Viktor might have died and he wouldn’t have noticed. 

But then, Yuuri prods the whorl on his head. It’s a small little tap. Almost barely noticeable except he does notice. And it’s not because his hair is thinning. No. Viktor refuses to acknowledge that. 

Yuuri’s still touching _that_ spot.

He tilts his head back, saying “Yuuri—”

An odd choking sound escapes him, the words he had been intending to say getting stuck in his throat. Yuuri’s eyes are warm, a smile playing on his lips. But now his mouth is pursed. Yuuri’s brows come together in a confused furrow. 

“What’s wrong, Vitya?”

Viktor tries. He tries to remember what he wanted to say but he’s getting distracted. Yuuri’s fingers resume his ministrations. Brushing through the strands. Over and over in a comforting fashion until he feels like he’s going to fall asleep any second.

He gives up.

“Nothing.” He leans back into Yuuri’s embrace, defeated.

He can feel the curve of Yuuri’s smile as he kisses Viktor on the head. Right on his whorl.

***

“How was that?” Viktor pants as he skids to a stop in front of Yuuri. He braces his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. 

Although it’s not official, it’s understood that Yuuri is going to be one of Viktor’s coaches as he prepares for his comeback. In fact, it was Yakov who suggested it in his typical Yakov manner. 

“Vitya, your free leg was sloppy!” Yakov had barked. It had been Viktor’s first day of practice, back on his home rink.

“Oh Yakov,” Viktor had smiled brilliantly. “I’m the Living Legend. My free leg is never sloppy.”

He had thought Yakov was going to explode right then and there but instead, the redness slowly began to fade. 

“What do you think?” Viktor’s coach had turned to Yuuri who had been standing quietly to the side. Yuuri had started.

“Oh! Um…”

Viktor leaned against the rink barrier, a smirk on his face. Yuuri would take his side for sure.

“It was, uh, a little sloppy.” Yuuri had admitted. The smile immediately dropped from Viktor’s face. Yakov had a triumphant smirk on his face.

“Viktor?” Yuuri added.

“Yes?” He couldn’t keep the wounded sound out of his voice.

“Your spins need to be tighter. And-and your edges weren’t very clean in your step sequence.”

“I like him,” Yakov had said as he skated past Viktor. Viktor grumbled assent.

By now, everyone has left the rink, leaving only Yuuri and Viktor. Yurio had laughed at Viktor as Yuuri criticized his camel spin, the ugly sweat stain on Viktor’s back, and how his hair made him look like a drowned cat.

Yuuri’s style of coaching is a complete 180 from Yakov’s. He’s never heard him raise his voice and he sometimes still sounds a little unsure even though his comments are almost always right. But there’s something about his soft-spoken voice, about Yuuri, that makes Viktor want to listen to him. Wants to make Yuuri proud.

The Japanese skater touches the tip of his finger to his lips. Viktor’s engrossed as he taps it once, twice, three times.  

Smiling, Yuuri says, “Better.”

***

On Christmas Eve, they decide to go for a walk after dinner. Yuuri attaches the leash onto Makkachin’s collar. Makkachin’s already bounding around, knowing what’s in store. The two walk out of the apartment and into the frigid St. Petersburg temperatures.

The lights are on, illuminating the streets in Christmas lights. People were everywhere, doing last-minute Christmas shopping, rushing to get into shops before they close. Viktor and Yuuri walk along the bridge as Makkachin runs ahead, holding hands. He feels Yuuri shiver.

“Yuuri, you forgot your gloves.” He realizes.

“Oh yeah,” Yuuri says. He shrugs. “That’s alright. It’s only a short walk.”

Viktor shakes his head. He lets go of Yuuri’s hand and pulls off his right glove. Ignoring his protests, he takes Yuuri’s hand again, kisses the ring, and carefully puts it on. 

“There,” he says. He holds his hand again and continue walking.

The temperatures have dropped over the past few days and soon, Viktor’s hand is freezing. He squeezes Yuuri’s hand tighter in an attempt to warm him up.

He feels a tug. He glances at Yuuri as he pulls Viktor closer to him, so that he can stuff their interlocked hands into his coat pocket. There’s a blush dusting his cheeks. 

Viktor’s hand has never felt so warm before.

***

Viktor wakes up from his dream in a cold sweat.

His heart is racing, making his chest ache. He’s breathing so hard that his head’s starting to spin. 

He closes his eyes, trying to regain control. It’s been so long since he’s had that nightmare. That crushing loneliness that makes it feel like he’s drowning. Everyone always leaves in that dream. It was his mother and father when he was younger. Then Yakov. Yurio, Mila and Georgi. Sometimes Makkachin. 

This time, it was Yuuri. 

Viktor shudders. He’s never told Yuuri about his nightmares. It’s not like he’s afraid that Yuuri’s going to laugh at him but he doesn’t want to appear weak even though he knows that Yuuri would understand, would tell Viktor that he’s not weak. 

“Viktor?” he hears. Arms wind around his waist and he feels Yuuri’s nose press against his back. “What’s wrong?”

“J-Just a bad dream.” 

“Are you okay?”

Viktor turns in his arms, smiling at Yuuri’s sleep-mussed expression. He tightens his hold around him. Their legs tangle together. Mine, he thinks. “Yes. I am now.”

Yuuri leans up and kisses him. “Happy birthday,” he whispers against his mouth. “Thank you for being born.”

Tears spring into Viktor’s eyes. He tucks his face into Yuuri’s chest. And he knows that he’s going to tell Yuuri about the dreams. Maybe not right now. Maybe not today. But he will.

They stay, entwined together, for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Viktor!!


End file.
